


Sweet & Sour

by AoedeNymph



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bakery, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22491184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AoedeNymph/pseuds/AoedeNymph
Summary: You certainly took the Bat by surprise in more ways than one, and he makes it his mission to figure you out. Everyone in the Batfam knows that's just an excuse to drop by your bakery every day.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Reader, Bruce Wayne/You
Comments: 49
Kudos: 275





	1. Tangled

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally caved after binging ShapedCrusader's adorable fanfic. 
> 
> Please don't take this fic too seriously. I forgot that writing could be silly, fun and cheesy, and that's exactly what this is going to be. I hope y'all enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing it!

Well, fuck.

Did you just clean knock out _The_ Batman?

You looked at his limp body, laying on the floor of your bakery in the dead of night.

Big, muscular stature. Pointy ears. Spooky cape. And, of course, the huge symbol of a bat yelling at you from the front and center of his chest.

Yes. Yes, you did.

Bruce opened up his eyes hours later, a dull pain ringing through his skull as he slowly sat up from the… couch? Where the hell was he?

On the loveseat across from him, there was a figure standing watch. A single dim lamp was on, but the perpetrator’s face remained obscured. His eyes squinted to get a better look, and he managed to make out that they were… slumped over? Sleeping?

He tried to fully straighten his back with much disdain from his unruly headache, earning a loud creak from the surface beneath. Bruce cursed under his breath as the mysterious stranger jolted awake with a gasp.

“Oh, thank God! You’re not dead!”

Without a second thought, you rushed over to the Bat, cup of water and bottle of pills in hand. “Here, uh, for the pain.”

You were met with a silent stare which caused you to slowly put down the medicine. “Right. Don’t take candy from strangers.”

Still not saying a word, Bruce got to his feet and basically hovered over you, a bit too close for comfort. Was that the last thing every thug in Gotham saw before losing their front teeth?

Your eyes were shut tightly, holding your breath to prepare for what came next. But nothing did. When you opened them again, he was gone, the livingroom curtains fluttering in the brisk wind creeping through your window.

“Master Bruce?”

Alfred joined him in the Batcave, the millionaire furiously typing away on the Batcomputer to keep his mind occupied. Bruce didn’t need to look at his butler to tell that he was thoroughly amused.

“Not another word, Alfred” he mumbled.

Your alarm went off the next morning, making the same bell chime noises as it did every day without fail. Being your own boss meant you could decide to sleep in if you wanted, but you never did. After all, finally saving up enough money to open your very own bakery had been a dream come true.

After getting ready, you headed downstairs to begin preparing for opening time. As your hands skilfully kneaded the dough, your thoughts trailed to the weird fever dream you had.

In this strange fantasy your mind made up, you couldn’t find your phone, so you assumed you must’ve left it somewhere in the bakery. To save money, which you desperately needed to when trying to individually sustain your own business, you decided to search through the darkness with an old, faulty flashlight. You even went to check in the register, because you _could_ indeed be that absent-minded, when you heard a noise behind you, and the flashlight died right at that moment.

Horrified, you walked backwards into the kitchen until your back hit a metal shelf of baking trays. Another sound came from right behind you, and, thanks to the pure adrenaline rushing through your veins, you grabbed one of the trays and flung it as hard as you could towards the source of the noise. You realized you had knocked out the actual Batman and, after a solid ten minutes of panic, hauled him to the living quarters above your store. The exhaustion set in after having to carry his heavy frame up a flight of stairs and you curled up in the seat opposite of him, hoping he didn’t have a concussion.

The timer on the ovens snapped you out of your reverie and you let out a laugh as you cut out different shaped cookies. “Yeah, as if anything that interesting would happen to _me_.”

Your first customer for the day arrived at exactly 8 am, as announced by the bell on the door. Your heart swelled and you quickly wiped the flour from your hands onto your apron before rushing out to greet the newcomer. “Good morning! What can I get you?”

The excitement bubbling in your chest basically exploded when your eyes met a pair of brilliant sapphire orbs and a charming smile, their owner giving off an enticing scent of expensive cologne that instantly made you gulp. He was eyeing up the delicious display of treats before redirecting his attention towards you.

Bruce knew too well what effect he had on women. He ran a hand through his perfect locks of ebony before reaching for his wallet.

“One of everything.”


	2. Damsel

“Let me get this straight. You went in there because you thought the place was getting mugged, but it was just the owner?”

Bruce grunted disapprovingly. He didn’t even know why he felt the urgent need to explain himself to a very cocky Nightwing. “It looked suspicious. I had to make sure.”

The fact that his voice was very matter-of-fact didn’t keep Dick from snorting, but it was cut short by a sharp glare from his mentor. He glanced at a notification from Kori on his phone and flashed them a boyish grin before departing. “Well, have fun brooding. _I_ ’ve got a date.”

Damian paused his strenuous training, accepting a towel from Alfred as he wiped the sweat away from his forehead. “Father, _must_ we keep him?”  
  
“Damian” the Bat retorted in a warning tone.

“Tt.”

Almost out of earshot, the boy added a snarky remark before disappearing into the secret doorway to the manor. “Make sure to cover your drink this time.”

Eyes wide, Bruce clenched his fist in disbelief and, admittedly, embarrassment. 

  
  


You were locking up after another busy day. At first, your bakery didn’t get too much attention. It was relatively close to the heart of Gotham, despite the ridiculously cheap price tag. Originally a rundown seafood market, it had been completely emptied out after being uncovered as a secret hideout for illegal substances. Surprisingly, that hadn’t creeped you out as much as you thought it would. Despite your affinity for inherently cute things like making pastries and decorating cakes, you didn’t mind a bit of horror. Maybe that’s why you weren’t so terrified of the Dark Knight or the ridiculous crime rate in Gotham. 

Every since the beautiful stranger began visiting your bakery, your popularity skyrocketed, to the point where you now made enough money to comfortably pay all your bills and even spoil yourself a little once in a while. You didn’t think too much of it and simply assumed that the other frequenters came for the sweets and stayed for the eyecandy that was your faithful black-haired customer. Yeah, he looked nice, smelled nice, basically single-handedly kept your business running, but he still seemed a bit vain to you, almost like he was always hiding something behind that fake smile and playboy attitude. Was he trying to win you over? As grateful as you were to him, he was just not your type. Was _anyone_ your type? 

Nobody had ever really piqued your interest. You had met plenty of nice, sweet souls in your life, through college, cooking school and apprenticeship, but nobody ever seemed to really _get_ you. They always saw the pleasant image of a perfect cinnamon roll who lived inside an illusionary gingerbread house away from all the ugliness of the world. No matter how hard you tried, it always felt like every time you tried to speak, nobody listened. _Really_ listened. It wasn't like you were actively looking for love, so it never bothered you much.  
  


Being new to the town had its advantages and disadvantages; one of the latter being that Gotham could get very dark and gloomy at night-time, which inherently caused you to get lost trying to find your way back home from a little shopping trip. Your steps were sloshing against the wet pavement, echoing against the constant background noise of sirens and car honks. That was definitely the last type of city everyone you knew expected you to move to, but it was oddly comforting, as if you had finally found where you belong. 

You followed a narrow path between two gritty buildings before stopping suddenly. The fancy-looking ride in front of you looked like it had taken quite a beating. It had a strange aerodynamic shape, driver's door hanging right open. Curiosity peaked, you tip-toed over to throw a glimpse inside, your bags dropping to the floor at what you discovered. The Bat, in a state not many had the luck (or misfortune) of seeing. You covered your mouth with your hands before rushing over, kneeling down to assess the damage. What were the chances of running into an unconscious Caped Crusader not once, but twice?! His armor was battered and torn, visible wounds gushing with blood. The worst seemed to be the gunshot in his abdomen. Despite not being a medical professional, even you could tell he was going to bleed out _fast._ A voice ruptured through the speakers inside the car, albeit muffled. In a frenzy, you jumped onto one of the seats, frantically searching for anything to patch his wounds with. 

"H-Hello? Is this Batman's car?"

For all you knew, you were communicating with some advanced artificial intelligence.

"Who- Who am I speaking to, Miss…?"

"Look, Batman's here, he's losing a lot of blood! I-I don't know how to help!"

Your voice was on the verge of breaking, tears creeping up.

"Oh, dear. Please get him inside the vehicle and I will assist you from there."

  
  
  


You knew it. You _knew_ Gotham was where you were meant to be. The fact that you were inside the Batcave was more than enough proof. Wishing to retain the vigilante’s privacy, you courteously wrapped your scarf around your eyes since arriving and refused to take it off, although it helped Alfred feel less guilty for making you drive all the way to what was, unbeknownst to you, the caverns underneath Wayne Manor. You could only assume that the familiar voice speaking to you was an actual android walking around. Batman had an android? That was _pretty awesome._

Very carefully, Alfred escorted you to another car, in tip-top shape this time, and fully able to drive itself. He assured you that the Bat would get his wounds tended to without drawing any unwanted attention and thanked you for going through so much trouble for their sake. You gave him a meek smile in return before he closed the door of the opulent, latest-model sports car, programmed to return after safely escorting you home. “It’s the least I could do after bonking his brains out of his skull.”

The whole night, you tossed and turned in your bed, lips pursed with worry. Seeing the infamous vigilante in such a fragile state had left you in a daze, somehow just now realizing that he was human underneath the mask, much like you. Dozing off to sleep, you prayed that he would recover soon, and if you ever saw him again, that he wouldn’t be one foot inside a coffin for once.  
  


Your loyal fan was nowhere to be found for the next couple of weeks. It wasn’t like you _missed_ him, but he had become a part of your routine and it felt so odd now that he disappeared. Things had basically gone back to their boring self; less customers, less enthusiasm and no terrifying encounters with a particular man in a mask. 

There was nobody left in the shop except for yourself, so you decided to close up early. You were trying to reach up to one of the outside window latches, stubbornly rusted into unmoving rebellion. No matter how much you strained, the latch wouldn’t properly shut. As you were about to give up, a whirring noise swept past your ears, followed by a metallic clink. You didn’t get more than a second to look at the strange boomerang-esque tool that just fixed your window, but your face instantly brightened up when you realized what shape it was molded after. You glanced around you, trying to spot the only one you knew that used such gadgets. Although your search was unsuccessful, you still couldn’t help the happiness blooming in your heart.

Dick shook his head from the shadows, catching the Batarang as it swirled its way back to him through the air. He let out a sigh before leaping off the building opposite of the bakery. “Alfred, you were right. She’s _so_ into him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? The barely-there plot doesn't make any sense? Shhh. It doesn't need to. There will be fluff.


	3. Masquerade

Bruce had been refusing to listen to reason. Despite everyone around him encouraging to at least somehow repay the woman who saved his life as either _one_ of his personas, he had flat-out refused to approach you again. He told himself he was doing you a favour, that he had probably scarred you enough and risked the entire secret identity of not just him, but all those around him, so perfectly crafted and preserved, simply because he got stubborn and, dare he say, reckless. Batman was _not_ reckless. Batman was calculating, cold, stalking his prey and silently taking it down without so much as a huff. He had gotten sloppy, allowed himself to grow soft because of his endearing little visits to your bakery every morning. He had been taken aback by the kindness you showed him on their first meeting, despite knocking him out with that merciless baking equipment. He could only imagine the strain it took to drag him to safety and watch over him, unable to forget the exhilaration in your voice when he came to. People did _not_ show kindness to Bruce Wayne, unless they wanted something from him, and they most definitely did _not_ show any sort of affection to the Bat. 

Except for you.

A complete stranger who had cared for him on two separate occasions for no reason whatsoever other than the goodness of her heart. 

He found himself idly thinking of you no matter when or where, be it in a meeting at Wayne Enterprises, tinkering with the Batsuit, or driving around in the Batmobile on his usual patrol. Was there another handsome CEO stopping by to relish the inviting scents of cinnamon and freshly whipped cream, admiring the delicate decoration of each and every confection you created?

You were such a simple, normal girl from a bland town, with a bland life. The contrast in your lives couldn’t clash more even if you tried. You were happy where you were, and more importantly, you were _safe_ . As much as he missed the trails of powdered sugar on your cheek and the sweet _Wishing you a lovely day_ card with every bagful of treats, it was much more logical to put an end to it before it got out of hand. 

  
  


He was entertaining guests at the annual Gala, held at the imposing Wayne Manor. It was always the same schmoozing, drinking and forgetting the face of whatever woman he slept with by the next day, even though he had gotten slightly more tame as the years went by. He was a father now, and he ought to be more responsible if he had any hope of setting a good example for Damian. 

Everyone at the party and the background itself seemed to blend into an uninteresting blur when he spotted a particular baker. Maybe your outfit wasn’t nearly as pricey as the other guests’, but next to your alluring blush and genuine smile, all others paled in comparison. 

_It_ had _gotten out of hand_.

Bruce’s pupils darted accusingly towards Alfred and Tim, who only shared a look, shrugged and gave him a sheepish expression in return. _He_ had made sure to plan out a very smooth exit before your arrival, but his own family had sabotaged him and invited you earlier than instructed. _Traitors_.

Of course, your eyes _had_ to lock together, bound to do so by the stupid, red string of fate. Your expression burst into that pure embodiment of excitement that got his blood rushing. You advanced towards him, and, before he could stop himself, he did the same.

The two of you were face to face again, after a period of not seeing each-other. 

“If I’d known I would see my biggest fan today, I would’ve baked you something special.”

You acted as if nothing happened, as if he hadn’t totally ghosted you the past few weeks. All he had to do was act the same way he did with everyone; entertain them, laugh at their jokes, keep up the facade of the playboy billionaire - Wait, _something special_? 

Bruce, focus.

“I hope the deserts here don’t disappoint you _too_ much” he teased in return, offering her a glass of champagne from one of the passing waiters. 

You gracefully accepted, your fingers brushing against his, leaving his skin to tingle and burn where he longed for more contact; a feeling you didn’t particularly share.

“Are you kidding? The ingredients used are so expensive, I’ve only ever seen half of them in _magazines_.”

The sparkles in your eyes were unmistakable, like a child seeing snow for the first time. Bruce was now _immensely_ proud of the fact that he grossly overpaid the chefs to make sure everything would be to your liking, but said nothing of it.

“I never caught your name, by the way.” Your bluntness was endearing. 

He didn’t contain the short laugh that escaped him, before double-checking that you were, in fact, serious. There _was_ a person in the whole wide world who _didn’t_ know who he was? Maybe you just never associated the name with the face.

“Bruce Wayne, at your service.” He politely held a hand out, hoping you would place yours on top and his lips would get another touch of your smooth skin. You even _smelled_ sweet. How was that possible?

His sultry introduction flew well past your head as you grabbed his hand and gave it a hearty shake, nonchalantly replying with your own name as if his presence wasn’t the biggest deal. “Pleasure.”

_Oh._

_You really_ didn’t _know who he was._

The orchestra of talented classical musicians started playing a slow song, urging Bruce to try his luck with you.

“Care for a dance?”

You hummed in response and pulled away. “Not really much of a dancer, sorry!”

What? First, you didn’t know who he was, second, you rejected a dance with him. Was he high on some fear gas again, stuck in the worst conceivable nightmare?

You looked behind him and widened your eyes, quickly fixing your hair. “There’s the investor I was looking for. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for the usual?”

Before he could even answer, you were gone, leaving him blinking repeatedly, only to pinch himself after.

It was real. And _he_ was an idiot.  
  


After the Gala, you returned home, winding down after successfully acquiring a new investor for your business. You slipped off your best clothes and left them on the bed, only your matching bra and underwear left. You had _one_ set that could pass as sexy and you used it to boost your confidence for the night, fully aware that nobody but you was going to lay eyes on it anyway. Your locks of hair came down from their updo and you let out a sigh of relief, slipping out of your heels. 

A waft of cold air brushed past you, causing you to shiver and rub your arms. Did you leave the window open? You turned around to go and check, but bumped into something. Or… someone.

You froze up, realizing that Batman’s gloved hands were now holding you at either side to keep you from falling backwards. Your eyes met his masked ones, and your face was promptly set on fire by his deep voice.

“Bad time?”

No matter how much you mentally screamed for your legs to move, they wouldn’t. They were frozen in place, trembling nervously, and your voice got caught in your throat for a second before you managed to swallow hard.

“N-Not at all.”

He gently let go of you and turned his head out of courtesy, noticing your state of undress. He held something out to you and you realized it was your purse, with a keyring that looked like a slice of cake. Containing all your cards, ID, and not only the keys for your house and shop, but also the ones for your register.

“Bruce asked me to return this to you.”

The Dark Knight watched closely for your reaction, or lack thereof, perplexed to the moon and back. _Hello? Bruce knows Batman. Isn't that cool? That makes him really cool, right?_ He was becoming jealous of _himself._

You bit your lip and thanked him, laying your purse down on the bed next to your clothes. Before he could disappear as he always did, you reached out and grabbed onto his cape. 

“Are you… okay?”

A bit unnerved by the lack of response, you went on.

“Last time I saw you, you were really hurt. I hope you’re alright now.”

 _Don’t turn around_ , Bruce kept chanting in his head. If you turn around, you _will_ do something you’ll regret.

The whole Batfamily was gathered around the Batcomputer back home, collectively holding their breath as they silently cheered their dad on. “Come on, say something…! The stoic silence is _really_ not doing you any favours right now” Nightwing muttered.

Bruce drew in a long breath, trying to steady his ridiculously fast heartbeat. 

You knew not to press any further, so you let go of the kevlar material, but your voice was firm, jokingly scolding him.

“Be more careful, you hear? Otherwise I’ll have to start tagging along.”

The smallest exhale echoed in his chest, but you heard it loud and clear. You made him _laugh_.

He took off, leaving you staring after him as he ziplined away. You already knew the plan for tomorrow.

  
Buy more sexy underwear. It was _so_ worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell the whole shtick of this story yet? Seems like Miss Reader prefers the monster rather than the man behind! ;)


	4. Spice

You didn’t even think twice about running towards the helpless woman who was being threatened by two thugs. You bravely stepped in front of her, making them laugh. “Look at this! Who are you, little lady? Batman’s side chick?”   
  
The smirk was clearly distinguishable on your face as you reached into the little pouch strapped across your body. 

“I’m the baker who’s gonna kick your ass.”

Before they could react, you threw a fistful of flour at one of them and kneed them in the jewels. The woman shrieked behind you as the other thug swung at her, but you pulled her behind your frame and sprayed him right in the eyes and mouth with a mixture of vinegar and concentrated lemon juice. Both men were sprawled on the concrete, groaning in discomfort.

The woman thanked you and bolted, clearly having had enough fun for one night.

A shadow dropped behind you, scaring the daylights out of you when it spoke.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You recognized the voice and turned around with a small, goofy grin. “I’m Batman-ing!”

Bruce was quick to lose his temper when it came to those he cared about; something Alfred had tried time and again to teach him to control. He snapped, grabbing your wrist and squeezing it with enough pressure to make you drop your makeshift blinding spray. 

“Do you think this is a  _ joke _ ? Do you have  _ any _ idea how much danger you put not just yourself, but others in as well? You could've been  _ killed _ !”

You flinched at his harshness, trying to curl your fingers and release yourself from his grip. 

“Come on, half the criminals in this town are total idiots! I thought you could use the help!”

Your words only seemed to push his buttons further. He abruptly let go of you and bent down to inspect one of the thugs. It took less than ten seconds to find the gun hidden inside the criminal’s coat and expose it to you. 

“I don’t  _ need _ help, especially not from an inexperienced amateur who has  _ no _ clue what they’re doing.”

He quickly tied the two assailants up and notified GCPD of their location, avoiding to look at you again.

“Go home. And next time you have an incredibly childish and stupid idea, make a cake out of it.”

  
  


Guilt tugging at his heart, Bruce only showed up late in the evening to the bakery after your little kerfuffle, trying to be very gentle and quiet in case you were upset - which he quickly came to understand that you were a bit  _ more _ than upset.

You were furiously hand-mixing a bowl of batter right at the front of the counter, splattering the substance everywhere. The whisk was going so fast Bruce was wondering if you were going to enter the Speed Force any second.

“Bad day?” he dared to ask, tentatively moving closer to rest his elbow on the marble surface.

You didn’t look up at him, brows furrowed into your forehead with utter displeasure. You turned, grabbed a bag of chocolate chip cookies, ripped it clean in half above the bowl and continued to mix with vigor.

“Damn, I’d hate to see the other guy” the Bat added, completely rethinking why he even dared to come see you after the awful way he treated you. 

When you slammed the bottle of ground pepper on the counter, he flinched and moved away. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll just-

You basically tore the cap off the bottle and dumped all of its spicy contents into the batter, then smacked it so hard on the counter that it broke into shards of glass.

“Y/N, are you-”   
  
You just couldn’t contain the loudness in your voice when you barked back at him.

“I am  _ FINE _ , Bruce! Are you going to mansplain to me that glass can cut through skin?!”

After incorporating the pepper into the batter, you very loudly set it into a baking tray and shoved it into the oven.

You plopped your ring finger between your lips, as it  _ was _ bleeding slightly from the glass that  _ did  _ in fact graze your epidermis. 

It was already hard to be around you when you were that angry, let alone when he was the one who caused you to feel such strong hatred.

“I apologize.”

That was all he could come up with, but it sounded sincere. 

“Me too. It’s not your fault.”

Alfred coughed into his ear through the small earpiece which Bruce promptly removed and tucked inside his pocket. 

“Can I ask who the victim is?”

You rolled your eyes, upset to even say his name.

“It’s your best pal, The Assbat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness of this one! Life has been a mess recently but I really want to not let this fic die like all my other ones since it's a lot easier to write! Thank you so much for all the support!


	5. Diamonds

  
  


_ are a girl’s best friend! _

Catwoman purred at you, batting her eyes through her mask as she jingled the bag of diamonds.

“Come on, sweetheart, you know what it’s like out there! Plus, you’re too prrretty to bruise.”

You were still very much angry at Batman. You had been purposefully going out of your way each night to hunt down petty criminals before he could get to them. Maybe he had tech, but you had the way to everyone’s heard - food. People talked, especially when bribed with mouth-watering treats, so information was quite literally a  _ piece of cake _ for you.

“I heard you had a fight with Batman. Does he  _ really _ deserve you doing this for him?”   
  
Selina knew how to manipulate others; it was a tool she learned very early in order to survive on the unforgiving streets of Gotham.

“Between us girls?”

You lowered the electronic whisk and let out a deep sigh. 

“He’s such a dick. Join me for a drink?”

She smirked in return, urging you to follow her with a clawed finger.

“Thought you’d  _ neverrr _ ask.”

  
  


After a few rounds of drinks, it was safe to say that you were at least very tipsy. You hadn’t actually hung out with another woman in so long, you’d forgotten how fun it could be, especially with someone as scandalous as  _ Catwoman _ . While her real identity remained hidden, you shamelessly flaunted your bare face. Why should you be scared? You only hunted guys you knew you could handle, and you were a  _ baker _ for crying out loud. What was the most exciting thing that could happen, someone would break into your shop thinking you’re trying to rob yourself?

“Now, you wanna talk about it?”

You were too far gone to catch what she meant.

“Mmh?”

You downed another shot of tequila and she gently placed her gloved hand over your wrist.

“I know you’re still angry at him. To be honest, it’s  _ impossible _ not to be.”

Your shirt was starting to feel like it was strangling you, so you unbuttoned the collar to give yourself some space to breathe. 

“He thinks he’s  _ always  _ right! The truth is, he’s just a guy, same as anyone else. He’s not a god!”

Selina was patting your back, nostalgia bubbling up inside her. She felt like she was staring at her own reflection from years ago, the first time she had met Bruce, when he was even more impulsive and terrifying. Adopting the boys had certainly made him a better man, or rather, allowed himself to see that he  _ could _ be a good man, if he’d just allow himself to  _ feel _ . To be  _ normal _ .

“And that’s what scares him.”

Catwoman paused at your words. For her, it had taken a long time before she came to understand the Bat and the huge complexity behind him, the baggage, the awful things that could come out of his mouth. But you had barely met him, and to Selina, it seemed like you were two peas in a pod. He would say something completely opposite of what he thought, but you knew what he truly meant. You understood him, like you were two halves of the same soul.

She couldn’t contain her laugh, making you raise an eyebrow. 

“You know what I think?”

You shook your head and she leaned closer, brushing some hair away from your stunning eyes.

“I think you’re really good for him, and you should give him another chance.”

There was a heavy sigh as you leaned back into the lush cushions of the empty bar she had snuck the two of you into. 

“He’s not going to apologize, is he?”

You both glanced at each-other in a moment of silence and burst into a fit of giggles. 

“Yeah, as soon as the sun shines in Gotham.”

  
  


Batman brought the cake home after a night of patrol along Nightwing, setting it in the kitchen as Alfred prepared to cut up slices for everyone. After seeing how angry you are, Bruce was visibly distraught, brooding with crossed arms in front of the window as the bright, shining sun signaled the coming of dawn.

Wait,  _ sun _ ?

His thoughts were interrupted by aggressive coughs and spitting noises, Dick hanging over the sink and aggressively washing out his mouth.

“Bruce,  _ what _ is in that cake?!”

His father figure tried to contain a small laugh, fisting his hand in front of his lips. 

“Vengeance” he answered simply, walking over and taking a bite as well.

That was quite possibly the spiciest thing he’d ever tasted, and he knew  _ fully well _ that he deserved it.

“I thought revenge was meant to be  _ sweet _ ” Dick grumbled, washing the taste down with a hefty cup of water, which Bruce stole from him half-way through and downed it with one gulp.

His eyes were watering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I'm honestly so motivated to keep working on this story thanks to your overwhelming love for it!! I honestly can't understand why y'all enjoy it so much but it makes me incredibly happy <3


	6. Misaligned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce tries to approach you, but it seems there's someone else on your mind.

You hadn’t seen the Bat ever since that night when he acted like a total dickbag. Night after night, he would end up at a crime scene only to find the trademark trails of baking substances in your aftermath of apprehending petty criminals. 

While he didn’t interact with you as Batman again after your falling out, he was still visiting your bakery religiously. If anything, he hoped you never had to see his vigilante persona ever again. He would remain in your life as a simple billionaire, supporting your business and casually engaging in short conversations every morning. 

Of course he kept watch over you when you were out at night as the control freak he was, but it turned out you were more capable of beating guys up with rolling pins than he had given you credit for. However, he was _not_ going to condone your vigilante-ing in any way, shape or form, as it was still an unnecessarily huge risk to your well-being that he simply could not accept, unable to comprehend that it was not his decision if you chose to expose yourself to that risk or not. 

It was for the best. To Bruce, despite hurting your feelings, it had been the right decision. He was still utterly frustrated that you insisted on hunting down aggressors by yourself, but felt better knowing that he could at least make sure you were safe, from a distance. Everything was as it should be, which prompted him to try his luck with you again on one particular morning.

As he was tucking his wallet away into his coat, he gave you a blinding white-teethed smile and graciously took the bag of pastries from you, pretending to check his expensive watch before glancing at you again. You were too busy being amazed at how many different fragrances of cologne existed, and how he seemed to own literally all of them, to notice the charming look in his eyes. He smoothly flicked a card between his index and middle finger, twirling it between them before holding it out towards you. “I was wondering if you’d join me for dinner tonight. I can pick you up at 8?”

Your eyes narrowed downwards, trying to read the small card. It was a dinner reservation for the fanciest restaurant in Gotham. You were perhaps a bit jealous of their desserts. What was even the point of a golden leaf-topped souffle filled with chocolate sauce made out of the most expensive blends of cocoa? It probably didn’t even taste _that_ good. It’s true that you sometimes scouted competitors out and used your sweet appeal to hide your true intentions, but you’d be damned if you would ever step foot into that disgustingly opulent establishment. Not that you haven’t tried. They had a 12-month waiting list _and_ chose their clientele very strictly. Safe to say, they told you no. 

“I’ll walk. Meet me at Caroline’s diner at 6.”

You waited for his receipt to finish printing and offered it to him with a pleasant smile. “Have a lovely day.”

  
  
  


It was pretty awkward for Bruce to be sitting by himself in front of a cheap diner of all places, taking pictures with overly-enthusiastic citizens, wilfully ignoring the insults from others telling him to go fuck himself, and checking his watch every five minutes. 

You were twenty minutes late when you approached him, wearing the plainest clothes you could pick out. A pair of jeans, trainers and a hoodie; you almost went for sweatpants but reminded yourself Bruce was still a respectable source of income for your bakery, so you decided to be decent. 

That didn’t keep your faithful customer from lighting up when he saw you and holding the door open for you. The two of you sat down at one of the tables by the window, opposite from each-other. 

“Busy today?”

Bruce gracefully slid the menu over to you, trying not to make a face at the horrendous options.

You shook your head and hummed, browsing their burger selection. “Not really. You?”

_So you were late just to taunt him?_

“Some fundraisers, a few meetings at Wayne Enterprises, stopped by the tailor for-”

You were definitely not listening. You called the waitress over and ordered, glancing over to Bruce. He just cleared his throat and politely asked for just water, before bringing his attention back to you. He was dressed in a pristine white shirt, the buttons worth more than your entire business. His arms rested on the table, his image of elegance and wealth totally sticking out against the surroundings.

“I can’t help but feel like we’re not on the same page here.”

Glancing up at him, you let out a small sigh. “Sorry, I’m distracted. I know you’re not _him_ , but you’re… friends, right? Has he, like, mentioned me? At all?”

A pang of jealousy shot through Bruce. Him? Who were you talking about? If this was another case of a woman trying to get to Clark through him, he was going to lose it.

“You know”, your voice lowered to a whisper as you inched in, “Assbat.”

The billionaire could barely contain the grunt that bubbled up in his throat, masking it as a sigh as he dropped his head and massaged his temples. You tilted your head. Somehow, that sound and demeanor seemed oddly familiar for a split second.

He regained his composure and faked a smile. “Right. He’s been, uh, away. Haven’t talked to him.”

You visibly scowled, crossing your arms in front of your chest and leaning back into your seat. “I knew it. What a dick.”

Bruce caught himself this time before widening his eyes. He raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat, tapping his fingers against the table, grumbling to himself. “Couldn’t agree more.”

“I mean, who does he think he is?!”

He knew what the next hour entailed. He rested the side of his head against his knuckles, politely listening to you ranting about Batman and calling him colorful blends of bad words and what he assumed were unpleasant baking terms. It was almost 8 o’clock by the time you finished your burger and he offered to pay for you. He offered to drive you home, which you refused.

“I’d love to do this again. Somewhere more private, next time” he chuckled, flashing his million-dollar smile and showcasing his collarbones that peeked out from the undone top buttons. You turned to him after checking your phone and stared.

“Wait, like a date?”

He moved slightly closer. 

“I’d hope so.”

“Um... “

“Not a date, then! Just… hanging out.” Is that what Dick called it?

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind. Well, I’ve gotta run, but I had fun!”

Before he could even attempt to give you his number, you fled.

  
  


You were just about home. It was almost time to go out crime-hunting, so you had to start preparing. You peeked into your purse to grab your keys when you noticed something stuck to your front door. You groaned, assuming it was another late product delivery you missed, but your heart skipped a beat when you realized it was a hand-written note.

_Wayne Botanical Garden. 10 PM._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for disappearing! I thought we could all use some fun and silliness in these times, so I sat my butt down and kept writing this fic. I really do enjoy it, I'm just very bad at being consistent with literally anything. I hope you're all doing okay, please stay safe!


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